Rest in peace.
Yesterday morning I received an e-mail from the sister of my e-mail friend Emma. I've known Emma roughly four and a half to five years now, and she's one of the friends I've had the longest time. Over the past couple years we haven't been writing as often, but she was still a very dear person and friend.
Emma was in a car accident sometime last week, and she didn't survive. I don't know any of the details of it yet ... if anyone was in the car with her, or how it happened, ect.
I'm really, really sad. I know this isn't going to be as hard to make it through as it was when Samantha died, and I feel guilty saying that. But especially because the circumstances are different, I guess. It still really hurts, though. A lot. I feel guilty now about taking so long to reply to e-mails, but other than that, I think I'm at peace with my relationship with her. I never hold back love and affection, so I think she knew I cared about her. I can't think of any time we ever seriously argued, and I don't feel unresolved about anything with her. I don't feel doubtful at all that she's in a better, happier place now. But I do miss her.
There is a part in the back of my mind that wants to feel sorry for myself and ask, "Why me? Why my friend? Why do I have to lose someone again?" but I know it has nothing to do with me. This affects a whole lot of lives, most of all her own that she won't be able to do more in. She was 18 and wanted to be a teacher. Her favorite flowers were tulips. Her favorite movie was American Beauty. She loved to listen to Enya. Her favorite color was lilac. She was wiccan. She was the middle child in her family. She was named after the title character in Jane Austen's novel. We had the same middle name. She loved her friends and her family. They loved her, even when she felt like they didn't. She lived, she breathed, she loved, she laughed and she cried. She made other people smile more times than I'm sure she ever knew or believed. She was my friend.
Emma was in a car accident sometime last week, and she didn't survive. I don't know any of the details of it yet ... if anyone was in the car with her, or how it happened, ect.
I'm really, really sad. I know this isn't going to be as hard to make it through as it was when Samantha died, and I feel guilty saying that. But especially because the circumstances are different, I guess. It still really hurts, though. A lot. I feel guilty now about taking so long to reply to e-mails, but other than that, I think I'm at peace with my relationship with her. I never hold back love and affection, so I think she knew I cared about her. I can't think of any time we ever seriously argued, and I don't feel unresolved about anything with her. I don't feel doubtful at all that she's in a better, happier place now. But I do miss her.
There is a part in the back of my mind that wants to feel sorry for myself and ask, "Why me? Why my friend? Why do I have to lose someone again?" but I know it has nothing to do with me. This affects a whole lot of lives, most of all her own that she won't be able to do more in. She was 18 and wanted to be a teacher. Her favorite flowers were tulips. Her favorite movie was American Beauty. She loved to listen to Enya. Her favorite color was lilac. She was wiccan. She was the middle child in her family. She was named after the title character in Jane Austen's novel. We had the same middle name. She loved her friends and her family. They loved her, even when she felt like they didn't. She lived, she breathed, she loved, she laughed and she cried. She made other people smile more times than I'm sure she ever knew or believed. She was my friend.